Going for the Gold
by ClatoForever98
Summary: AU Clove Ruston, seventeen, future Olympian. Join her as she struggles to get from a New York gymnastics academy to the U.S. Gymnastics team. Meanwhile, Cato Evans, the overly confident big brother of Glimmer Evans, is determined to get the attention of the young gymnast. When Clove denies him, however, he becomes even more determined to see her crack.
1. Chapter 1

Clove Ruston; seventeen. Her raven black hair was tied up into a swift ponytail, her dark green eyes set in determination. In front of her was the one, the only, vault; otherwise known as the only thing the incredibly talented gymnast had difficulties with. She took a few deep breaths, and without letting herself think about the possible outcomes, took off down the runway, heading straight for it.

Lunging off of the springboard, she flipped through the air, a weightless feeling that she adored, when her calloused hands made contact with the vault. Springing herself into the air, she did not one, not two, but three flips and a twist, and landed. She let out a shriek of frustration when after her feet made contact with the gym floor, she did a very large hop and stumbled to the side. She stalked over to the benches and took a swig of water. Why couldn't she ever stick the landing? She can do everything else almost perfectly, but the stupid vault had to go and mess up her scores. Not that it didn't keep her from coming in first nearly every time.

But that's the key word. _Nearly. _

Clove Ruston likes perfection. In fact, she never accepts anything but perfection, which explains why she's seething over a vault that most girls be proud of. But she didn't stick the landing; of course it wouldn't be good enough for her.

Her head snapped to the side when she heard the familiar would sound of the gym door opening. She tilted her head in confusion as she waited to see who the person was. Nobody ever comes this late. Normally it's just her and the vault, which is the only thing she practices with after hours. Seconds later, the familiar face of Ainsley Fox appeared, followed by Annie Cresta. Otherwise known as Clove's fiercest competitors.

"Clove," Ainsley greeted with a curt nod. The dark haired girl didn't reply, but she watched the two wearily. Something was up. They never came this late.

It wasn't that Clove _hated _them; let's just say that they had a rivalry. A very _big _rivalry. Ainsley, Clove, and Annie always came in the top three. They were no doubt the best three competitors in the state of New York, maybe even the country, and Clove absolutely hated it. She hated sharing the spotlight with Ainsley and Annie, she was way better than the other two, why couldn't the rest of the world just see it already?

Ainsley grabbed her duffle bag that was left in the corner of the gym. _Oh,_ Clove thought. _She just left her stuff here. _Annie waved over her shoulder as the two walked back out of the gym. As soon as she heard the sound of the door close, Clove let out a sigh of relief. She felt uncomfortable when the three were alone together, as Ainsley was just as competitive as Clove was, and the two definitely weren't fond of each other. Annie was Ainsley's lackey, following her around everywhere and mostly staying out of Clove's way.

Clove moved back over to the vault and adjusted the spring board, moving it further back. She's determined to perfect this, and there's no better way than to push herself to the limit. After adjusting the springboard, she walked over and re-chalked her hands. After the slip she had on the uneven bars a few years back, she never took a chance.

Preparing to run, Clove successfully managed to block out everything but the springboard and the vault. She was _going _to stick the landing this time. No doubt. She took a deep breath and took off running, but as soon as her hands made contact with the springboard, she knew that she moved it too far back. Before she even had time to curse herself for her stupidity, her back slammed into the vault and she fell to the gym floor in a heap, wind knocked out of her and groaning, half in pain and half in frustration. She crawled to the side of the vault and hoisted herself up, panting and trying to catch her breath. "Damn it," she muttered to herself. Well, that was it for the night. She'd call her mom and tell her to pick her up; she didn't feel like getting a big injury right before nationals. If there was one thing Clove knew, it was when to stop.

She managed to stand up, but the wind was still knocked out of her. She was so distracted; she didn't even notice the presence in gym with her. Suddenly, a deep voice rang out in the once-quiet gymnasium. "You okay?"

She jumped and fell to the ground, letting out a huff of air. Wincing and holding her side, she shot a look towards the direction of the voice. "I'm fine. Injuries build character," she said curtly. The voice chuckled and he stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself. Clove barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes when she saw the face.

"Build character my ass," Cato Evans said with a smirk. "Do you need help or what?" He asked while slowly approaching the glaring girl.

"No, I don't need your help," she spit. "Why are you here, anyway?" She struggled to her feet and walked over to the benches.

The tall blonde boy watched the small girl with interest as she downed the rest of her water. "My sister left her phone here and begged me to come get it. You know where it is?" Clove made a face at the mention of his sister, otherwise known as Glimmer. She was the biggest bitch in New York, and the only reason she was aloud in the very exclusive gym was because her father owned the place. Not to mention she sucks beyond belief at gymnastics. Clove honestly has no idea why she even does it.

"No, I don't know where she left her precious phone," she said with a sarcastic smile. "Sorry I couldn't be of service. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving." She slipped on her sweat pants, zipped up her jacket, and grabbed her duffel bag. Pushing past him, she kept her face clear of all emotions, as usual, even though she was seething. He saw her mess up. She _never _messes up. She tried to ignore her bruising back and whipped out her small phone, dialing her mother.

_"Hello?" _Her mother's voice was distant and full of static, but that was no surprise to Clove. Their phone was crap.

"Mom, I'm done training, you can come get me now," she replied while hiking her bag higher up on her shoulder. She spotted Cato's silver Volvo parked in the large lot and turned away from it. Jealousy was creeping in and she absolutely hated the feeling. She was better than Glimmer, Glimmer should be jealous of _her, _not the other way around. So what if they have a lot of money? She has a future gold medal.

_"Oh Clove, I'm so sorry. I'm in the middle of something, dear, do you think you can find another ride?" _Ms. Ruston's voice was very tired, as it usually was. She had to work a double shift just so the family of two could keep their house.

_Yes, _Clove thought. She could get Cato to give her a ride; but she decided that she wouldn't be able to put up with a car ride from a rich asshole. "No. It's fine mom, I'll walk," she said with a sigh. Her back pain had diminished into a dull ache. She'd survive a three-mile walk home.

_"Oh honey, are you sure?" _Her mother sounded nowhere near concerned. She knew Clove could handle herself.

"Yes mom," she replied hastily. Not giving her a chance to reply, she closed the phone and slid it into her bag. With a deep breath, she set off down the road, streetlights lighting her way.

"Hey!" Cato called before she got too far. She turned around and glared at him.

"What do you want, Evans?" She called back.

"You need a ride? It's pretty late!"

The weak part of her wanted to give in and let him take her. But she's Clove Ruston, and she never listens to anything or anybody weak, including herself. She waved him off and kept walking down the road, keeping her head down. There was one thing she knew about walking in New York, and it was to never make eye contact. These people were like animals, taking eye contact as some sort of aggression.

Her mind wandered as she walked the mostly empty streets. Nationals were coming up in a month now, and this might be her last chance to win and get on the Olympic U.S. team, which has been her goal since she was in Pre-K. Of course, her mother never had enough money to put her in _real _training or classes, so she practiced every day at the town park, until finally someone noticed her incredible talent. His name was Mr. Evans, Glimmer and Cato's father and the owner of the most prestigious gym in the state. He had given her a full scholarship when she was only twelve years old. She's been training at the Long Island Gymnastics Academy since, completely outshining most of the girls there.

Well, except for Ainsley Fox. It seemed that the two girls always competed for Number One, and neither of the two was ever satisfied with their performance. In their minds, they could always do better. They were alike in many ways, but the two girls would never, ever admit it.

When Clove got back to their small, shabby house, all the lights were off. She dug around in her bag for the key and unlocked the splintered door, walking inside the house the smell of smoke was overwhelming. She grit her teeth when she found her mother passed out on the kitchen table, ash tray full of used cigarettes and an empty box next to it. "So that's what you were doing when you couldn't come pick me up," she muttered under her breath. She went over to the sleeping woman and shook her awake.

"Hmm..?" Ms. Ruston said, half-asleep. Clove grabbed her arm and led her into the bedroomm.

"Go to sleep, mom," she said quietly as she walked her over to the queen-sized bed. Laying her down, her mother muttered something unintelligible, and seconds later she was out like a light. Clove let out a small sigh as she turned and walked to her bedroom. It was hard to have to be a parent to her own mother. It was hard to go to a gym on a scholarship when everyone else was incredibly wealthy. It was hard growing up in the slums. Clove's whole life has been hard. But she doesn't really mind.

She always embraces a challenge.

***Alright, moment of truth. Should I continue? I know it's a pretty short chapter, but it's just the beginning. This is my first attempt at an AU fanfic, and I have no idea if it sucks or not, so please let me know. Might I remind you, there is a fine line between bullying and constructive criticism!***


	2. Chapter 2

Clove had never liked her alarm clock. For some reason, it always seemed to go off right before her dream ended, and it annoyed her to the end of the Earth and back.

For example, this time she'd dreamt of Worlds. It was beautiful there, what with the ocean view and swaying palm trees, matched with the sweet victory that was sure to come her way. The US _would _take Worlds that year. No 'maybe' about it.

Clove had positioned herself at the beginning of the runway, the God forsaken vault perched in front of her. She rubbed her freshly-chalked hands together before taking off down the runway, her mind focused on the landing and the landing only. This would be the last event, and if she did this right, the US would take gold.

She launched herself onto the springboard and she flew into the air, concentrating on making sure her hands connected with the vault. How embarrassing would it be to miss it completely?

The Double Arabian is what she'd planned on doing; what she'd been practicing since God knows when, and she was determined to get it. She'd gotten it down pact in practices, but everyone knows practices don't matter once you get this far in the game—it's the performance and the landing that'll either make you or break you. Clove had a way of knowing whether or not the run will turn out good or a flop as soon as she's launched into the air, and this time, to her absolute pleasure, she knew she would stick the Double Arabian, and she knew she would land the Gold for Team US.

Her feet were inches away from the ground and she was already prepared to throw her arms up in victory, when suddenly—

Her damn alarm clock started trilling.

"For God's sake," she muttered as she slammed her hand down on the 'off' button.

From the kitchen she smelled fresh smoke. Apparently, her mother never stops. She wouldn't be surprised if there was another random guy fixing crappy pancakes, which has been happening quite a lot lately.

With a groan of exhaustion, she pulled herself out of her twin size bed and padded across the room to her closet. Unlike most girls her age, she didn't have to spend hours picking out the perfect outfit to impress the seniors at their high school. Clove's everyday outfit consisted of her dark blue leotard with silver stripes at the base of the sleeves, light gray yoga pants, and her zip-up jacket with the logo _Long Island Gymnastics Academy _printed proudly across the front. After she pulled on the familiar clothes, she ran her brush through her hair, cursing quietly as the brush snagged against one of the many knots in her tangled hair. This is why she hated thick hair. She couldn't imagine why any girl would want it. If it was possible, she would happily trade her long, thick hair for someone's short, thin hair. But that wouldn't really work, because Clove had to put her hair into a tight bun for gymnastics, and she couldn't do that with cropped hair.

She looked at herself in her dirty mirror that hung above her old desk and cringed. To say she wasn't a morning person would be an understatement. With a sigh, she quickly pulled her sleek hair on the top of her head and bobby-pinned the loose hairs up. She didn't even bother with the foundation that her mother bought her for Christmas. It sits there untouched on her desk, dust coating the lid. She's never been much of a makeup person, especially since she really didn't need to impress anyone. The Academy doesn't allow dating, and if Coach Evans found out, you'd be lucky if you weren't kicked out of the gym for good.

After slipping on her tennis-shoes, she slowly walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, not really wanting to talk to her mother. Exhaustion still plagued her, and honestly, she didn't believe she had an ounce of patience left for the poor woman. All she wanted to do is grab a cup of coffee, eat an apple, and get the hell out of the house and to the gym.

Ms. Ruston's head turned as the creeks of the floorboards alerted her of her daughter's presence. She cast a quick glance at her man of the night, Robert, who was standing over the stove cooking what looked like eggs. Clove would be beyond furious with her for bringing in _another _man that would try to treat her like a little girl.

Her suspicions were confirmed when her daughter dragged herself into the kitchen and caught sight of the stranger. Something like anger flashed in her eyes at the sight of the man, but quickly diminished. If there was anything she hated, it was showing her mom how much she got on her nerves.

_I guess I was right, _Clove thought, _except this time, the dick's making eggs. _With another look of distaste at the man standing over the stove, she sat in one of the lawn chairs that were positioned around the small table. The man—introduced as 'Robert' by her mother—smiled at Clove as he set the plate of eggs on the table.

"Good morning, Cleo," he said brightly. His voice was gruff like a smoker's. Clove's assumptions were made right when he pulled the pack of Marlboro Cigarettes out of his pocket.

"It's Clove."

God knows it took all the strength she had to not punch the man-whore square in the jaw.

He sighed and lit the cigarette. "Oh. Sorry, Clover."

Her mother rubbed her forehead with hand. "Robert, just call her Clove." The big man rolled his eyes and said he would address her as 'Clove' from now on, and to calm her tits. Clove fumed at the way this man… _Robert_… addressed her mother. Although she hardly respected the woman, it still pissed her off when someone besides herself talked that way to the woman who raised her, even if she did do a pretty crappy job of it.

It took her a few seconds to realize how _sore _she was. She winced as she twisted her body, testing out her back. It didn't feel like a muscle pull, so it was probably just her bruised back protesting. She still couldn't believe how stupid she'd been to move the springboard so far back.

Clove knew for a fact that she did not want to eat the eggs this idiot made. Her face was set stubbornly as she pushed around the eggs on her plate. After a few minutes of showing her household her obvious distaste, she reached for one of the apples sitting in the basket on the table and started to eat it, causing an eye roll from her mom.

"Clove, the least you can do is taste the eggs," said Ms. Ruston, exasperation laced in her voice. If looks could kill, Mom would be ten feet under by now, Clove thought darkly. She glanced up at the kitchen clock and almost spit out her apple. The clock read 8:20. Training starts at 8:30. Clove stood from the table and downed the rest of her coffee, ignoring her screaming throat as the hot coffee scalded it.

"Mom, we have to go."

Ms. Ruston glanced up at the clock and brushed a loose piece of hair away from her face. "I guess you're right. I'll get the keys."

Robert looked at her as if he'd been shot. "So you're just leaving?"

Clove stifled a groan. How stupid is this guy? Is he really so immature he can't be left alone for five minutes?

Her mother's face reflected her thoughts. "Robert, I'll be right back. Don't worry." His response was a scowl, but apparently that was good enough for Ms. Ruston, because she grabbed the keys off of the rack and walked out of the house, Clove close behind her. They both slid into the old Ford and Ms. Ruston shoved the keys into the ignition, causing the old clunker to roar to life.

They rode in silence, neither one wanting to be the first to initiate an apology. In the end, however, Ms. Ruston turned to look at her daughter and frowned.

"Clove… I know you hate him."

She scoffed. "Obviously."

"He's a great guy, honest. And if it helps, we didn't even have sex last night. He just… stayed over. Do you know how long it's been since I've just had a guy stay over?" Her mother's eyes lit up in a way Clove wasn't used to, and she sure as hell didn't like it. Her mother did not need some guy in her life, especially not one that tells her to "calm her tits."

"First of all, gross. I think we're on a need to know basis here. And second of all, no offense, but the guy's a dickwad. He doesn't treat you right and he can't even remember my name." Clove paused for a moment, her forehead against the window of the car. Damn, she was tired.

"What I'm trying to say is that we can't afford another guy in our lives who doesn't even care."

Ms. Ruston's face fell, her eyes returning back to their usual state. Secretly, Clove felt satisfied that she was able to take away such a spark. What she said was the truth. They did _not _need another guy to come in just to walk away. That's happened to both of them enough to last a life time, and even though Clove would never admit it, it breaks her a little more each time.

"Robert's different," Ms. Ruston said in a whisper.

Luckily for both of them, the old Ford pulled into the parking lot of the Academy, and without even bidding her mother goodbye, Clove grabbed her gym bag and slid out of the car as quickly as she had entered it. Ms. Ruston frowned at her daughter as she ran off, wondering how the hell a child can grow up so much in such a short time.

***Next chapter, Clove will be training at the gym, and I was going to include it into this one, but I decided against it. This is more of an insight on Clove, so you can learn a bit more about her day-to-day life, and the kind of household she was raised in. I'm sorry for the long break between updates, but it won't happen again! Thanks for reading! ~Riley***


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